Work
by theonesthatcomeeasy
Summary: AU / After the death of Lilly Kane, Logan and Veronica form a reluctant partnership.
1. Chapter 1

**I fell asleep while watching Castle. I'm still on 100% sure on how exactly this happened, I just got a little overwhelmed by the response to Welcome Home and I guess one thing led to another and this happened? Keep in mind while reading this that, like all of my fic, this is unbetaed. The only editing this has gone through is me re-reading it a few times. I have a feeling the tenses might have tripped up more than a few times. If you're interested in beta-ing, I'd greatly appreciate you hitting me up through PM/twitter/tumblr/carrier pigeon. I also have absolutely no idea of anything regarding newspaper offices or police departments beyond a bunch of episodes of Law & Order SVU and The Newsroom. The latter isn't even close. I have no idea where this is going, but, depending on the feedback I fully intend to make this a whole, blown out, multi-chaptered fic.**

* * *

Casey Gant whistles cheerily as he walks down the halls of the New York police department's homicide division with a coffee tray in one hand and a recently bought copy of the New York Times in the other.

"Oh thank god. You brought me coffee," Veronica Mars exhales loudly in relief as she recognizes what was in her colleague's hand.

"Two sugars, no cream," Casey offers her the beverage as he flaunts the other object in his possession. "and another article from our biggest fan."

Veronica's momentary pleasure at finally getting her caffeine fix instantly dissipates. "You've gotta be kidding me. Doesn't he have anything else to write about?"

Casey snorts, then began to read aloud from the critically acclaimed newspaper. "It seems our very own NYPD is on yet another wild goose chase. This week, its the murder of some poor teenaged girl who happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong time. Despite evidence pointing towards a notorious gangster knowing to frequent the area she was killed, the department continues to insist that, you guessed it, it was her grieving boyfriend."

Veronica, quickly irritated with their favorite journalist's constant commentary on her career, attempts to grab at the paper to force Casey to stop. Unfortunately for her, Casey, who had over a foot on her, continues to read.

"Well, perhaps I should be easier on our law enforcement. After all, isn't wrongly accusing the boyfriend a step up from wrongly accusing the girl's father? I, for one, have to commend such marvelous detectives such as Veronica Mars," Veronica continues to swipe at the paper in his hands, but Casey only flits around the desks, ignoring the odd looks from those that occupy them. "for having the talent to perform the feat that is constantly ignoring the facts in favor of sticking their head up their asses. It must be difficult to be that disconnected from reali-"

"What in the hell are you two doing?" Clarence Wiedman interjects, interrupting Casey's dramatic interpretation.

"Nothing, Chief!" Veronica answers cheerily. "Casey was just recapping me on my fan mail, that's all."

Weidman only narrows his eyes at the two. "Echolls is at it again?"

"You'd think he'd have enough after his little blurb on our work on the East Coast Strangler." Casey replies unabashed.

"Or maybe after the murder of the transvestite." officer Leo pipes up.

"Then there was the hooker on Times Square..." Casey continues.

Weidman is unamused. Having to deal with the press backlash involved in each publication, reminders of the article were not his favorite. "The press has been on our asses since the Kane case. We don't have the damn time to deal with some bitter boyfriend of a heiress."

"Amen, boss." Eli Navarro growls. "If there's anything I hate more it's some rich white boy telling me how to do my damn job."

Clarence only sighs dejectedly. "This isn't looking good on our rep. Unfortunately we can't even sue this guy for slander."

"I guess that what happens when you accuse someone on Forbes' top 10 list on killing their own kid." officer Don Lamb waits until the Chief is back in his office to snark, then approaches his small desk to sit in chair backwards and smirks smugly at Veronica, indifferent to Eli and Casey's answering glare.

Veronica looks away guiltily. The department wouldn't have had to worry about their reputation if it wasn't her constant pursuit of Jake Kane, software inventing billionaire.

* * *

_Where were you the night of your daughter's murder?" Detective Mars looks doggedly across the interview table at a worn for wear Jake Kane._

_"I already told you, I was at the Park Central with my wife." Jake answers warily._

_"What were you doing there?"_

_Jake blinks in disbelief. "Excuse me?"_

_Veronica doesn't reply, only looks long at hard at the father of Lilly Kane._

_"I was at a hotel room with my wife..." Jake repeats._

_"You've said that already and I asked you what exactly were you doing there." Veronica is quickly getting a little irritated._

_"You know what we were doing there. Its like that when you have kids, your privacy goes out the window. I realize you might not understand that."_

_Veronica ignores the jab about her age. "I'm twenty-seven, I have friends who have kids Mr. Kane. If you were at the hotel then provide us with the receipts and we can be done here._

_"You can't be serious." Jake shakes his head. "You should be out finding who killed my daughter!"_

_"How long were you two having sex?" Veronica persists despite the billionaire's protests._

_"That's really none of you business."_

_"Your daughter was murdered, Mr. Kane. That sort of privacy goes out the window under these circumstances." Veronica couldn't resist the urge to throw his words back in his face. "Now, how long were you two having sex?"_

_"I'm not answering that." Jake shakes his head._

_"According to your earlier words, you were there for a little over two and a half hours. How much of that time was spent having sex?"_

_"How am I supposed to remember?"_

_"You can remember the first thing you did when you got into the room, can't you?"_

_"I don't know, we just settled into the room..." Jake laughs uncomfortably, adjusting his tie. "I put on the TV."_

_"What was on?"_

_"Is this really necessary?" Jake questions the blonde detective for the upteenth time._

_"This is an interview. It's my job to ask questions, Mr. Kane." Veronica states exasperatedly._

_"We put the TV on for background noise so we could just get right to it, alright? You want me to draw you a diagram?" Jake spits out._

* * *

_"How long were you in the room with your husband?" Veronica is in the same place in the interrogation room, though with different clothes and a new person at the end of the table._

_Celeste Kane's answering voice is cold and haughty. "Two and a half hours."_

_"Matches up with your husband's statement." Veronica notes._

_"We were there together, so obviously it would."_

_"Were you together in the room for the full two and a half hours?" Veronica's tone remains business-like, despite the demeanor of the woman across her._

_"Yes." Celeste barks._

_"What did you do when you got there?"_

_"We had champagne on the patio."_

_Veronica let an eyebrow quirk up. "Room service?"_

_"No, we brought it from home."_

_"Wouldn't it be easier just to order it?"_

_"We usually don't have to stay at Park Central. It was a special occasion." Celeste voice quavers on the second sentence. Veronica pretends not to notice._

_"Do you happen to remember what was on TV?"_

_Celeste looks haughtily at the detective. "Trust me, we weren't watching TV."_

* * *

Clearly both Jake and Celeste were lying about where they were the night their twenty-six year old daughter was killed nearly a year ago. Veronica knew it, as did Casey, Eli, and Clarence. You didn't lie about something as vital as the murder of your only daughter without a good reason, and she told the press as much.

They didn't take it well. One columnist and boyfriend of the dead heiress especially. Apparently him and Jake Kane were real pals, despite graphic images of him deflowering his little girl in very public places plastered in the tabloids. After he'd got wind of Veronica's on air comments on to some NBC crew pointing to the Kanes as suspects, he used every opportunity possible to ruin her and every other person at the station. It started out with a few snarky comments on his Twitter account and escalated from there. Now, Logan Echolls, son of two movie stars and renowned journalist wrote weekly headlines describing the NYPD's every mistake.

As if Veronica was the one pulling things out of her ass.

After a former employee of the Kane's, Abel Koontz confessed to the crime, the department was forced to close the investigation. Mounting media pressure caused by Jake Kane giving as many press conferences as he was physically capable made sure of that. The big bad wolf was caught, according to everyone else. Aside from Koontz's confession, rising star officer Don Lamb appeared on camera holding up the shoes he found on his houseboat as if it was a trophy. The CNN crews went home, the District Attorney made sure that Abel Koontz was currently in a maximum security prison, and the American public could sleep again.

As far as Clarence and the rest of the few colleagues that believed her were concerned, she'd dropped the case. They also thought the files on the murder were locked away in some dusty storage room. They were wrong on both counts. She didn't know Lilly Kane beyond the spreads in US Weekly of her doing keg stands and sleeping with sons of ambassadors, but she knew she deserved justice. Despite the cost that came with it.

She was going to find Lilly Kane's killer and make him pay. Logan Echolls and the rest of his attention-seeking friends who called themselves journalists be damned.

* * *

"I see murderers still don't believe in letting cops get any more than three hours of sleep." Veronica mumbles, slamming the door behind her.

"You could've gone home at any time." Weevil Navarro reminds her as they exit the squad car.

"And miss out on all the paperwork? As if!" Veronica scowls, seeing officer Leo surrounded by crime scene tape.

"Who is the vic?" Weevil asks grimly, ducking his head under the tape as Veronica soon follows.

"Late teens or early twenties," Leo looks grim. "someone must have really not liked her."

"Why do you say that?" Veronica asks, puzzled.

"Girl was stabbed at least fifteen times, and cut even more." Leo explains, looking from Weevil to Veronica.

Weevil winces sympathetically. "Got an I.D. yet?"

"We're working on it, but it looks like they got her in the face."

"You think?" Veronica raises an eyebrow sarcastically, carefully eying the multiple cuts on the young girl's face when she notices something glinting about 5 feet away.

"Gimme a pair of gloves, Leo, it looks like our perp was sloppy."

* * *

It had to be Logan Echolls' lucky day.

No, but really, there was no other possible explanation for having such gold land into his lap at a time like this. What other explanation could possibly cover a famous hotel owner's daughter's body being found and the knife that killed him having Eli Navarro's prints on it? The only thing worse than the local police department being full of liars who pulled conspiracy theories out of their ass would be one of them being a murder.

Well, it sucked for poor Caitlin Ford, but it worked out well for Logan's career.

Especially when his boss started getting on his ass and saying how unprofessional his writing was starting to be. According to Cindy Mackenzie, his ever candid editor, "If the New York Times wanted a constant stream of out-of-touch bullshit, they would've hired Rush Limbaugh as a contributor."

They hardly had the balls to fire him, though, seeing as the paper had been selling faster than ever. So, regardless of what Ms. Mackenzie thought, her superiors were more than happy to keep printing his work.

So he took his cappuccino and began typing furiously at the laptop in front of him, screw Cindy Mackenzie.

_**"****IS ****THE ****NYPD ****CATCHING ****MURDERERS ****OR ****HIRING ****THEM****?"**_

* * *

Some might say Logan Echolls had a short fuse. Hell, some people would have personally paid for his anger management classes out of pocket. Regardless of what popular opinion was, however, it did take a lot to thoroughly piss Logan off.

Veronica Mars had succeeded in doing just that.

His girlfriend was dead and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. And what did Veronica Mars, who was in charge of making the person who did this to her pay, do? Blame everyone that cared about Lilly. Instead of going after her actual killer and the evidence leading to him, Mars and her merry gang of officers had instead tried to pin the blame on Lilly's father. The guy that was more of a father to him than his biological dad.

It must take a cold bitch to accuse someone of hurting someone they love like that. He's been on the receiving end of that blue eyed glare and intimidation tactics in a room with a window that only went one way.

Had his alibi not held up, it would've been him she went after.

"Dude!" Dick Casablancas comes bounding through Logan's beach house. "I read your article today!" He holds up his hand for a fist bump. "Niiiiiiice burn."

Logan only quirks an eyebrow and doesn't raise his fist to acquiesce Dick's silent request. "Are you meaning to tell me that you actually read?"

Dick had the decency to look offended. "I totally read, man. How else do you think I've memorized the Kama Strata from front to back?"

"Karma Sutra," Logan corrects his lifelong friend. "and I'm assuming you just looked at the pictures."

"To-may-to, tah-mat-oh," Dick shakes his shaggy hair. "point is you totally nailed that Mexican. Maybe he can go back to his homeland?"

"Or, you know, prison." Logan deadpans.

"Nah, man, I think his homeland is worse. Anyway, as douchey as those cops are, I can't believe they actually were dumb enough to kill someone."

"Yeah, you'd think a homicide detective would be smart enough to get an alibi, or even to wipe his-" Logan's face visibly pales. "Oh shit."

* * *

Three days later it's revealed, through various hotel receipts and grueling interrogations, that one Chardo Navarro is responsible, not only for the murder of Caitlyn Ford, but for framing a police officer.

"I owe you, V." Weevil states, pulling his friend into a hug in the middle of the station. "I don't know how long I was going to be able to stomach pissing in front of Lamb in that damn cell."

"That's me, preventing officer Lamb from looking at private parts one case at a time." Veronica replies perkily. "I'm sorry about your cousin, though."

Weevil grimly shakes his head. "I guess this is what I get for explaining to him how a guy we had a few years ago successfully planted evidence and landed his ex-wife in prison for five years."

"As long as you didn't do a step-by-step example of how to murder your paramour for not sneaking off with you, I think you're good." Veronica elbows him good naturedly. "Now if you excuse me, I have some business to attend to."

"What business?" Weevil asks, puzzled.

"Someone owes someone an apology," Veronica smirks as she walks out the door. "and I know just how to get it."

* * *

Logan Echolls had just been bitched out by Cindy Mackenzie. Again. Despite her boss's claims that Logan was simply going off the evidence in front of them, she was not too pleased with his accusing a police officer of murder, and that he better get his head out of ass before the Times got sued for libel.

Safe to say, this day was going to require a lot of coffee.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot impatiently at the local Starbucks' ridiculously long line. He's relieved when he finally gets his French Vanilla.

That is, until a tiny blonde someone slams into him and he gets it all over his white button-up. "Son of a-"

"Daughter, actually." Of course its Veronica fucking Mars and not a drop of the steaming hot coffee got on her sensible black blazer and pencil skirt. "And you call yourself a journalist."

Logan only scowls and proceeds to grab handfuls of napkins and blot as his shirt. "What brings you to this side of town? Shouldn't you be accusing innocent of people of murder or something?"

"Actually, that sounds more like your thing than mine nowadays." Veronica gives him her famous head tilt. "I was in the area and I thought, 'Hey! Why don't I catch up with my favorite writer at his daily 10:30 coffee run?'"

"Have my schedule memorized, do you?" Logan chuckles with a flirty grin, sliding into a nearby booth. "The ladies can't seem to stand away, now can they?"

"You know I only live to be close to you." Veronica says dryly, sitting down opposite him. "But you do have something I want."

"Okay, fine, I'll relent just this once, but no cuddli-"

"You owe Eli Navarro a very special apology. One published in your little tabloid you call your column." The blonde detective has a very smug look on her face.

"I'll get right on it," Logan nods. "right after I loan Satan my skis."

Veronica doesn't seem surprised by his rebuttal. "I really think this is in your best interest."

"Unless its topless photos of Alyssa Milano, you can rub a lamp."

Veronica replies in a sing-song voice. "Remember this moment, Echolls. You're going to live to regret it."

"I look forward to it." He goads smugly, folding his hands behind his head.

Veronica scoots out of the booth and out the door. Logan merely looks down at his shirt and grimaces. Without shame nor an undershirt, Logan peels the ruined John Varvatos over his head. 'This shirt probably costs more than her entire wardrobe.' He grumbles internally.

"Uh, sir!" A flustered barista interrupts his train of thought. "I'm going to have to ask you to put your shirt back on."

Logan looks at the coffee stain, then at her. "No can do."

"Then you're going to need to leave."

Logan shrugs without any trace of embarrassment, merely slinging the shirt over his back on his way out.

* * *

The very next day a video leaks on the Smoking Gun of Logan, 17 and drunk off his ass, organizing a bum fight. He knocks furiously on her door at her crappy apartment complex at six in the morning, fully intending to give her a piece of his mind and then some.

Veronica Mars opens the door, looking bored. "Written up that apology yet?"

"How about no, Mars. What the hell possessed you-"

"How must it feel to have your reputation ruined? Except I guess in this case its actually true." She snipes at him, and Logan has the decency to look down at the cracks in her porch. "Keep in mind I have more videos on my drive where that came from the next time you make a decision that hurts one of my friends, Echolls."

Logan snaps his head back up, glaring at the blonde in front of him. "You wouldn't."

"You underestimated me once, buddy, and yet here you are."

He fumes as she shoves him aside and locks her door. "I have to go to work and you're leaving to go get started on that apology. Now mush."

* * *

"Mr. Echolls, Woody Goodman would like to see you." Oh joy, a meeting with his boss' boss. As if Logan wasn't in a dark enough mood after today's events.

"Sir, you beckoned?" Logan pops his head into Goodman's office. The room was decked out in tacky baseball memorabilia.

"Logan!" Woody greets cheerily. "Have a seat, son."

Logan looks around the room warily to sit down in the chair facing Woody's desk. "Is this about the latest viral video circulating on the internet?"

Woody only laughs. "Well, yes and no." Noticing Logan's panicked expression, he quickly adds, "You're not being fired."

Logan looks noticeably less anxious.

"I've been talking with our staff, and as much as we love what you write, we've been thinking of giving you an opportunity to branch out." Woody says kindly, bustling about the room to fix coffee. He gives a mug to Logan, who accepts it gratefully.

"I get it, I'll lay off the NYPD," Logan begins, but Woody only shushes him.

"We don't want that at all!" Woody exclaims. "Just the opposite as a matter of fact."

"Oh?"

"After making some calls, we've decided the perfect way for you to reach full potential here at The Times is to have you get up close and personal with the police department." Woody explains, beaming as he sits down in his seat. "You start next Monday."

Logan looks utterly befuddled as he sips at the coffee. "Start what?"

"Following the homicide division, Detective Mars specifically, on cases! You can write columns on their work with more, uh," He looks regretfully at Logan. "accuracy when you're up close and personal. However, you'll have to sign a few things. Its not the states responsibility for any injures you get while tailing them, you won't tamper with evidence, you won't..."

For the second time that week, Logan ends up with hot coffee drenching his chest.

* * *

**Remember to review! I seriously freak out everytime the little number next to the fic goes up. It's embarassing. Tell me what you think and if I should stick to writing this. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm going to try to update this on a weekly-ish basis. Thanks for reading and remember to leave feedback! **

* * *

"You can't be serious."

"Veronic-"

"_Don't, Veronica, me_! There's_ no_ way in hell this is happening, Clarence!"

"We don't really have a choice in the matter."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Veronica,"

"I can't imagine that" She frantically searches for an insult. "_psychotic jackass_ wants to follow me around, either. So why in the hell is this happening?"

"Detective, you need to calm down." Wiedman states calmly. "Woody Goodman and the rest of the staff of that paper have a lot of influence in this town. When Woody Goodman is happy, most public officials in this town our happy."

"Why Echolls? Of all people, why did we have to get stuck with satan incarnate?" Veronica fumes just as another person enters the office.

"Well you know what they say," A smug voice says. "speak of the devil and the devil shall appear."

Veronica whirls around to find an unconcerned Logan Echolls leaning against the door of the chief's office with his ankles crossed and his hands in his designer pockets.

"How long am I stuck with him?" Veronica asks Clarence.

"Well," He glances back and forth between the cocky writer and his best detective. "That's up to Goodman."

She glares once more at Clarence, then at Logan who only . "Move," She grunts at Logan, gesturing for him to stop blocking the entrance, then slams the door behind her.

Logan takes one look as the blonde leaves before flopping down dramatically in the chair facing Wiedman's desk. "So, how is this going to go down, CW?"

"It's Chief to you," Clarence says with well-practiced authority. "and I hope you remember that, before you even think of getting in Detective Mars' way, that I have years of experience in the army and FBI."

"Your point?"

"There would be a lot of people willing to turn a blind eye if say," He levels his gaze with Logan's, leaning over the desk. "something tragic were to happen to you."

Logan looks bored, crossing his feet on top of the desk. "I'm shaking in my boots."

"No, you're not." Weidman states. "But that's what makes you a fool."

* * *

"Your boss is a little scary."

Veronica looks up from the paper on her desk to the annoying reporter sitting before her. "You should know by now that I'm even scarier. Shouldn't you be, I don't know, anywhere but here?"

Logan shrugs gilbly. "Well, it seems in order to keep my job, you and the rest of the department are honored to watch me sit here and look pretty all day."

"Don't you have paperwork?"

"Nope." Logan pops the 'p' as obnoxiously as possible. "Referred it to some intern over at the office. Just told him to sign everything."

"You set an intern up for forgery?" Veronica doesn't look impressed.

Logan only scoffs. "Please, I paid Ratner a hundred to do it all."

"What a sacrifice for a multi-millionaire!" Veronica exclaims sarcastically. Logan is about to retort with some scathing remark (one probably involving the words 'slut' or 'whore') before her cell phone rings.

"Mars." She answers curtly. "Where? I'm on my way." She grabs her jacket off the back of her chair, ignoring Logan's presence entirely.

"Wait, where are you going?" He calls after her.

* * *

Casey and Eli are already there when she gets to apartment 6-B, examining a body sprawled across the floor. "His name is Justin James." Casey supplies, looking up at Veronica.

"He live alone?" Veronica asks, kneeling down while putting gloves on to examine the body.

"No, but the roommate was at work. He came home to find his buddy without a pulse.." Weevil tells the blonde detective.

"Poisoned?"

"Looks like it."

"Lets get the rug he's lying on down to the lab, pri-" Veronica is interrupted by a figure strolling through the door.

"Can't get rid of me that easy, Mars." Logan Echolls states once he's in the room. "Who's the dead guy?"

"Sorry, Veronica," A chargained Officer Leo apologizes. "We had to let him in."

"It's not your fault, Leo." Veronica sighs. "And you," She points to Logan. "how did you even know where we were?"

"Followed your car." He replies cheerily. "If I have to do this job, I may as well get to harass you during."

"That seems to be your policy with living." Veronica says grimly. "Just don't get in my way."

"No guarantees. Back to my original question, who the hell is this guy?"

Eli and Casey, both none too pleased with Logan being there, share a look. "Would you believe it, Echolls? It's the star player of the Mets!" Eli exclaims in faux enthusiasm. "Out of all days you could've followed us, it was the day we had a famous guy dead on a rug!"

Logan shakes his head. "I don't believe you. The Mets have no star players."

Veronica seems to disregard the entire conversation. "As I was saying, get the rug down to the lab, find out whatever the hell that guy was poisoned with, and get prints on whatever you can find."

"Is she this bossy in bed?" Logan asks Eli and Casey. When they both give him dirty looks, he quickly defends himself. "Well, I figured you two would know."

"Hey, white boy, if you know what's good for you I'd advise keeping your trap shut." Weevil snarls at Logan, who then mimes locking his mouth and throwing away the key.

"So sensitive, sheesh..."

* * *

Veronica and an overly-enthusiastic Logan sit on the couch in the late Justin James' apartment across from his roommate, Owen.

"I can't believe he's gone, you know?" Owen says shakily, wiping his tears with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Veronica looks quasi-sympathetic and Logan seems bored.

"Did Justin mention anything?" Veronica questions gently. "About anyone wanting him dead? Or maybe about death in general? Maybe he was planning something..."

Owen seems offended at the prospect. "What, you think he did this to himself?"

"We can't rule out the possibility." Veronica trails off, and Logan chooses this exact moment to pipe up.

"Forgive her, she's bad at this. Gotta accuse the least likely person, right sugarpuss?"

Veronica whips her head in his direction. "Seriously? You're doing this right now?"

Logan shrugs. "You're the one who suggested he dropped dead of his own accord."

"Yes, because it's entirely unfounded that someone poisons themselves! Its not like its one of the most common methods of suicide or anything." Veronica snaps at him. The boy on the other side of the coffee table was currently spectating the reportee between the two as if it was a tennis match, having been temporarily forgotten by both of them.

Logan puts a dramatic hand to his heart. "Wait, you actually care about evidence?"

The detective scoffs in return. "Please, I'm surprised you even know what the word means. What, with all the ar-"

"Correct me if I'm wrong," A solemn Owen interrupts. "but isn't at least one of you supposed to find out what happened to my best friend?"

Veronica's jaw drops in shame. "I'm so sorry, Owen..."

Logan seems unconcerned.

* * *

"We're looking for a guy named John Smith." Veronica announces to Weevil and Casey, who both have Chinese takeout spread across their neighboring desks.

"That's convenient." Casey grumbles, slamming down his chopsticks.

Weevil, who did not possess the patience needed for handling the utensils, only dropped his fork in his carton. "Where'd you get the name?"

"Roommate mentioned that Justin was looking for a man by the name of John Smith. He didn't know who he was, or why he was looking for him but," Veronica merely shrugs. "it's worth looking into."

"You're thinking what if John Smith didn't want to be found." Casey supplied. "Though, wiith a name like his, it's hard to be."

Veronica grimaces. "Exactly. There are over 500 John Smiths in New York."

"Any we're supposed to knock on the door of each and every one?" Weevil asks, irritated at the prospect.

"Or," Veronica waves the stack of paper in her hands in front of Weevil and Casey. "you could just, I don't know, use the list of the three John Smiths that live in Chappaqua."

"Why Chappaqua?" Casey tilts his head in confusion, leaning back against his chair.

"Well," She smirks. "Owen may have mentioned that's where Justin went to look for him last."

"Looks like we're going to be seeing old Johnny boy." Casey grunts, popping up from his seat.

Weevil looks disapproving and stays put. "Johnny boy?"

"What?"

Veronica only rolls her eyes and hands them the addresses. "We can each take one. You guys enjoy your lunch break. I'll get started on mine now."

Casey gives her a mock salute then seems to realize something as she's walking away. "Hey! Wait!"

She turns around to face the two detectives. "What?"

"Where's your shadow?"

"I'm assuming behind me, but I don't know if the lighting in here allows it." Veronica replies puzzled.

"Your biggest fan that's been assigned to follow you?" Casey explains further, exasperated with Veronica's feigned ignorance.

"Oh, Echolls? Don't worry about him." She says dismissively, grinning as she walks out the door.

"Why do I have the bad feeling we're going to find his body in a ditch, Weevil?"

"Because I helped her hide it there."

* * *

Logan walks into the station at 12:30 sharp, exactly as instructed by one Veronica Mars. He doesn't see her there.

"Hey, Paco! Guy who was in a cult in high school!" He calls out to Weevil and Casey, both of whom seem to be preparing to leave somewhere. "Mars told me to meet her here, where the hell is she?"

The partners share a knowing smirk.

"Beats me."

"Haven't seen her."

Logan looks more frustrated by the second. "I don't think you realize that my job is on the line here. If she's out there arresting some guy for murder and I miss it, my boss is going to serve my ass on a plate."

"I'll bring the silverware." Weevil goads. "You rich folk use two spoons, right?"

Casey snorts and the journalist almost has steam coming out of his ears. "You don't want to get in my way today, Weevs."

Weevil seems unconcerned. "Really? It was in my day planner right under goals." Casey and Weevil strut out the door of the office, leaving Logan to fume.

* * *

The man registered to own a house under the name of John Smith opened the door just in time for Veronica to reveal her badge.

"Do you know a boy by the name of Justin James?"

"Excuse me?" The balding, middle aged man looks completely confounded.

"You're John Smith, right?"

The man seems to hesitate, then widens his door to invite her in. He leads her into the family room and gestures for her to sit on the couch.

"I'm not John Smith." He begins, resting on top of an armchair. "I'm Joseph Patrick. However, I met a woman by the name of Julia Smith when I used to frequent this little coffee shop.."

Veronica, though befuddled, nods for him to continue. "We hit it off, but she was really troubled. Said she lost everything after her family couldn't accept how she changed and because of that she lost her son."

"Is her son John Smith?" Veronica questions, leaning forward across the coffee table that separated the armchair and the couch.

"Not quite." Joseph answers wryly. "The change her family couldn't accept? She had a sex change."

"Oh."

"Of course, I loved her anyways. She was still the same person, regardless of what gender she used to be. We got married six months later."

"So, your wife is, excuse me, was John Smith?"

"Justin James was her son."

* * *

Logan Echolls was beyond pissed. Not only did he have to follow around the bane of existence to maintain his job, he had to spend forty minutes in a car ride to Chappaqua (more like the middle of fucking nowhere) to track down said bane of his existence because she decided her play hide and seek.

What kind of idiots left addresses on their desks, though? Did Weevil and Casey really just forget he was in that interview too? Only a complete idiot wouldn't connect the dots of a John Smith being mentioned and a list of addresses of John Smiths in some obscure town.

They really ought to give him more credit. Its on repeat in his head as he pulls into the driveway of John Smith number one. He notices Veronica's Saturn is parked alongside his.

Bingo.

He knocks on the door impatiently. The door swings open to reveal a bald man who he assumes is John Smith.

"I'm looking for my," Logan grimaces. "friend. She's short, blonde, annoying as hell...seen her?"

"She's in my living room."

And she doesn't look pleased to see him as he walks in like he owns the place. "What are you doing here?" Veronica demands to know.

"We're a team, Mars." He snarks cheekily. "And your buddies really suck at hiding things. Did they not teach them that at the border? Were the secrets of concealing information from journalists not hidden in Casey Gant's Kool-Aid?"

"Would you like me to force him to leave?" Joseph seems pretty unimpressed with Logan's antics.

"I can take him." Veronica grunts, and Logan raises an eyebrow.

"Wanna bet?"

"Anyways," Veronica interjects to get back on topic. "When is your wife going to be home?"

"She's not." Julia Smith's husband states solemnly at the same time Logan asks, "Wife?"

"Excuse me?" Veronica questions, ignoring the brunette who had taken up residence next to her on the couch.

"Why do we care about the wife anywa-" Logan's voice is muffled by Veronica's dainty hand over his mouth.

"My wife left me yesterday." Joseph's voice is completely and totally flat. Veronica feels a shiver run up her spine and absentmindedly runs her hand along where she knows her gun is.

"Her son was killed today." Veronica states as casually as possible. Logan's face is completely blank, giving away nothing.

"I know."

"Why do you think your wife left you the day before her son was killed?" Veronica asks, already piecing together the answer.

"She was going to get another surgery." Joseph shares bitterly, now up from his position on the lounger and pacing the floor. "She wanted to be a father for her son again."

"So you killed her son so your wife wouldn't leave you to become a dude?" Logan blurts out, keeping up with the new information quickly.

"Yeah, well," Joseph pulls his gun out of his holster a split second before Veronica gets up and pulls hers out. "nobody will have to find out, will they?"

Logan doesn't seem to lose his bravado. "Well, I'm a journalist. Kinda my job."

Veronica glares at Logan for a split second before refocusing her gaze on Joseph. She has no difficulty at all steadying the gun in her hands. "I'm going to need you to put the gun down."

"And I need you to put your's down, miss."

She only narrows her eyes at the man across the room. "I wouldn't call my bluff, buddy. People who play poker with me usually end up with empty pockets."

"Really?" Logan pipes up, still on the couch. "I'd pay to see that."

Veronica uses the distraction to wing Joseph in the foot, grabbing for his gun when he falls.

"Have a lot of experience shooting people, Mars?" Logan looks vaguely impressed.

"You have no idea, Echolls."

* * *

Weevil and Casey arrive exactly two minutes later. Veronica had called them under the guise of going to the bathroom at Psycho Stepson Killer's house just before Logan had arrived, giving Casey and Weevil plenty of time to drive over from the other part of the small town. The department arrived around ten minutes after them. They called the station on the way.

"Remind me not to piss you off." Casey chuckles after seeing Joseph Patrick being wheeled away with a bullet in his foot.

"Don't point your gun at me and I won't need to." She pokes him in the ribs, rolling her eyes.

"How did Echolls react when you two whipped your guns out?" Weevil asks, gesturing over to the lanky journalist leaning against a cruiser and flirting with a paramedic a few feet over.

"Bored, strangely enough," Veronica notes, furrowing her brow and frowning. "I'm ninety-nine percent positive he's a psychopath. That's the only explanation."

"He was bored?" Casey asks in disbelief. "You'd have to see some really fucked up things to look bored when you have a gun pointed at you."

"It wasn't pointed at him." Veronica corrects. "It was pointed at me. He was probably relieved he wouldn't have to deal with me anymore and that's why he baited the psycho."

Weevil and Casey look troubled, but start to climb back into their cars. "Let us know if you need anything." Casey instructs, and Weevil nods to echo the statement.

"Sure thing."

She watches the partners peel out of the driveway, not noticing someone slinking behind her.

"That's not true, you know?"

Veronica turns around and finds her face-to-face with Logan. "What has Veronica Mars lied about this time? I'm sure the readers of the New York Times would love to know!" She musters as much false-enthusiasm into the statement as possible.

"That thing about me wanting you dead." Logan is uncharacteristically looking down at his feet, kicking the dirt. "You're a pain in my ass and a real bitch but..." He shrugs. "I wouldn't intentionally bait the guy so he'd shoot you."

Veronica is about to say something about this being an improvement from last week before he stops her. "Do you know how much paperwork I'd have to fill out if I got your guts all over my shoes? Plus, I'd be dead next."

"How would your readers cope?"

"There would be riots in the streets."

Logan and Veronica share a rare smile. Veronica seems to realize this and quickly her face drops. "I'm sure your readers want my head on a stick. So what's going to be this week's headline? Detective Shoots A Man In Cold Blood? Mars Frames Husband of Drag Queen? "

"I'll think of something."

* * *

Veronica is just relieved to be home. She had missed Backup and late night TV the past few nights where she'd had to work overtime.

"Good boy," She coos to Backup, who greets her warmly as soon as she gets through the front door. Her neighbor had Backup let out and walk duty on weeks like these, but Veronica longs for the days where her dog had gotten the attention from her he used to.

Another thing she hadn't done this week was call her dad. Keith Mars was a Sheriff of a small town in California, and precisely what inspired her to want to become a cop. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey honey! Alicia and I just had dinner, how are you?"

"Alicia is there? Tell Wallace I say hi. I'm pretty good."

"I hear you have a shadow on the job now?" Keith prods over the phone.

Veronica only rolls her eyes, grateful her father couldn't see her reaction. "Less shadow, more psychotic jackass that I can't seem to get rid of."

"Are they even allowed to force you two to work together?"

"What New York Times wants, New York Times gets." Veronica grimaces while shaking her head. "No matter how painful it is for the rest of us."

* * *

Its the next day, and for once, Mac doesn't look like she's going to murder Logan Echolls.

"I'm proud of you." She beams as she passes by his desk.

"Excuse me?" Logan sounds offended.

"Your article, today."

"What about it?"

"It was much better." She states, walking over to her office.

"Oh," He pauses, then seems to put the pieces together. "Oh hell no."

"Oh yes." Mac calls over her shoulder.

"The headline was about Mars shooting some poor guy in the foot! I'm not going easy on her!" He shouts over to her, regardless of her being out of view or not.

"You didn't call her a liar once in the paper!" Jeff Ratner pats him on the back. "That makes me feel a lot better about signing those forms. She's less likely to kill you and not pay any legal penalty now."

"I said her actions were unnecessary and that she was a shitty interviewer who thought it was a suicide!"

"From you, that's Shakespeare, Moneybags."

Logan seems repulsed at the very thought. "I hate all of you."


End file.
